Nicole Kidman's Diary - Part One

Nicole Kidman bared her soul and then buried the diary. She had her publicist write one because it was promised to help promote her latest flop. We found the original diary written by Nicole and are bringing it exclusively to our Urban Myths’ Readers.

WEEK ONE –KUNUNURRA

DAY I
I despise Mondays. I can’t believe they’ve put me on a plane with a bunch of people who are simply extras or bit actors. It’s disgusting. There is no bathroom on the plane, and I’ve told them, through my Personal Assistant (Keith), that when we land, I will be using the facilities first and they are not to look directly at me, as I disembark this plane, nor crowd around me waiting for the bathroom. When I have had time to freshen up, we will advise them and they can look away as I leave the facility. Then they can use it...

I walked in the park with my niece on the weekend and I have sore feet. They’re blistered and oozing. When Keith was painting my toe nails, he told me that they have an odor, but not that much more pungent than usual. I will ask Baz to advise everyone that my feet are sore and so, they must carry my things and possibly even carry me to the set and out to the horses. I am a martyr to carry on under the circumstances.

It’s horribly hot. I have had to ask that the assistants bring me additional ice for my water, as the water temperature had risen above 8 degrees C and I’ve told them repeatedly that it must remain at 6 degrees or below, or I can’t possibly drink it. I don’t want them to think I’m a diva, but this is absurd.

My hairdresser has not been feeling well. He had a very high fever, abdominal pain, bloody diarrhea and was vomiting on and off this morning. They offered me another hairdresser, but I refused. Do they think I would submit to another person touching my hair? I told him to feel free to lay down this afternoon for 45 minutes while I’m on set, and then, when I return, he can wash and set it for the evening. He was grateful for the rest, especially in this heat. I am a kind master and quite medical.

King George was chanting and singing some aboriginal crap. I told him to please be quiet. It is so annoying how self centered he is. I’ve had a very trying day, my feet are sore and my hairdresser is ill and couldn’t give me the attention I usually get, so I was in no mood to humor his caterwauling. I am not inclined to listen to his drivel. It’s hot. It’s dusty. I’m tired as I spent almost two hours on set in the heat, while assistants fanned me, just to keep me from passing out.

DAY II
It is very hot. My hairdresser says that the bloody diarrhea is much better and his abdominal pain is subsiding. He is quite dehydrated and feels weak. I told him to make sure he washed his hands carefully before touching me when he’s doing my hair. The last thing I need is an infection from him.

I find this whole experience overwhelming. It’s the hottest day yet. My feet are still sore. My hair is not what it should be because my hairdresser is unable to give me his best efforts due to his illness.

I do not eat a lot traditionally. A blueberry here, a lettuce leaf there, a Starbucks’ scone occasionally…but at least I get food that I can enjoy, even if I do vomit it up later. There are oranges and strawberries and kiwis. There is bread and butter. There are eggs and bacon and sausages. There are croissants, and muffins and danishes. There is toast and jam. There are juices, coffee and tea. But there are no blueberries. I am offered muffins, but there are no scones. I am completely at a loss. The quality of the catering is unbelievably subpar. I must speak with Baz.

Baz has been stressed because of the enormity of this project. We’ve talked about it several times. The money…the expectations…he is in very deep. So, I hesitate to bring this to him. But I know he would expect it. I know he would be shocked to know that I was unable to find anything fit to eat. I’ve had more trouble with the temperature of my ice water…it rose to almost 9 degrees C today waiting for an assistant to finish bandaging someone’s lacerated leg, before he could get me more ice. I was seething.

As always, Baz eases it. He strokes me. He makes love to my temper. He gives me sustenance when no one else can. He is divine. He is extraordinary. He is the man I love. He is the man I crave. He is the man I would take second only to Tommy, my first love. But then, I must return to my trailer to Keith. He says “hi” to me while he is emailing one of his music people in Nashville. He is supposed to be combing my merkin for the love scenes in Sydney and I chastise him for taking time off for HIS music instead of tending to my needs. He apologizes and immediately grabs the comb.

He tells me that after a good sleep I will be a new person…and we fly back to the hotel on the private helicopter. Keith bathes me and rubs my feet. After cutting my toe nails he paints them a deep red. I go to bed feeling better and invigorated.

DAY III
I slept well. I get out of the helicopter to be met by Baz. He wants me to stay on site for a few days, so we can film late at night and early in the morning. He wants me to stay in a tent. A TENT??? WTF!

I am seething. He tells me it’s a huge tent, with running water and electricity and air conditioning. It is so small … 15 feet by 20 feet. True…it is for two nights only and there is electricity, running water and air conditioning, but it IS a tent. And it is far smaller than my standards…and smaller than the requirements in my contract. I look around. The light bulbs are 60 watt…I advise Baz that if they change the light bulbs to 40 watt and a refrigerator with ice is placed IN the tent, I will stay, but for TWO nights and two nights only. And there needs to be an additional tent for Keith, so he has his own space. I feel like I have made a huge concession. I am not someone who expects too much. I am just a regular girl like any other Aussie girl but I do have my standards. Baz seems pleased that I’ve been so willing to stay.

It’s hot all day. A black crow swoops down near where I am standing and I am immediately overtaken by the bad omen it represents. I scream…and faint immediately, waking up to an extra fanning me with his dusty old hat. I’m horrified and have him fired on the spot. Not only did he touch me but he was looking right at me, when I woke up. I felt dirty and had to retire early for a complete sponge bath. Keith is getting quite good at them, and has mastered the art of shaving my legs and underarms.

....to be continued